


In the Body of Evil

by MrHistoryman14



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Dreadlord Jaina Proudmoore, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Heroes to Villains, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Villains, War, World Domination, heroes will die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrHistoryman14/pseuds/MrHistoryman14
Summary: Jaina Proundmoore, Daughter of Kul'Tiras, Ruler of Theramore, founding member of the New Council of Tirisfal, Transmuter, Sorceress, Archmage, witness to the fall of heroes, advocate of peace between the Alliance, and Horde….Was a Dreadlord.Could the Universe or fates conceive such a twisted fate for one who had fought tooth and nail against the Burning Legion?Evidently they could.





	1. In the Body of Evil.

Once a upon a time, the young Jaina Proudmoore had a nightmare. Of a towering women with hair dark as night, of eyes that shone with emerald fire and skin an unnatural, sickly grey. The horns and leathery wings didn’t help matters. The woman reached out for the child, whose cry finally woke her from her dream and along with her much of Proundmoore Keep in the late hours of the night. Her family comforted her, assuring her it was only a bad dream, and blaming her older brother for telling Jaina too many ghost stories before bed.

She wished it had been a simple nightmare, but it was nothing of the sort.

Jaina laid on a four poster bed, face buried in the sheets. She did have midnight hair, she did have eyes and blood of Fel Fire that burned her very essence, she even had horns and wings!

Yes, Jaina Proundmoore, Daughter of Kul'Tiras, Ruler of Theramore, founding member of the New Council of Tirisfal, Transmuter, Sorceress, Archmage, witness to the fall of heroes, advocate of peace between the Alliance, and Horde….

Was a Dreadlord.

Could the Universe or fates conceive such a twisted fate for one who had fought tooth and nail against the Burning Legion?

Evidently they could.

“Come on Jaina, think, think!" she hissed into her pillow, a subtle silencing charm surrounding her that she might fall apart and try to reassemble herself with at least the chance of privacy.

"What could have happened? The last thing I remember I was in my chambers. A...a cultist managed to infiltrate my study and the wards began to malfunction, though I am unsure what they did to accomplish such a feat. I struck them, but before I did, they revealed..the amulet!" her eyes flew open at the realization. "The amulet he worn around his neck! It did this! It shone as he fell, my whole body felt it was on fire and then…”

And then she woke up in what had once been an opulent throne room, overflowing with the sickly green of Fel and rows of minors and lesser demons awaiting her orders.

The architecture reminded her a little of Ancient Kaldorei ruins in their prime, or Silvermoon the best she could tell, but such glory seem to have been lost long ago, and looking more like the grim, looming style of the Burning Legion. The demons and cultists were little better. Most were natives to this world, some an avian race (Whom she learned later this was once an temple and city built on the coast that belonged to them ages past.) other looked to akin to Night Elves, lithe and slender, but nomadic as far as she could tell not unlike the Tauren, raiding and looting the land as they pleased. Some looked to be perhaps relatives of humans or Dwarves, but most with vastly different cultures and societies so much so she could find little commonality with them. Another was a cat-like species, worshipers of the Moon, or at least they had been and often finding an iron boot on their throats by other kingdoms.

Her ‘adviser’, a woman that looked like living marble with the voice of a dozen that echoed across the temple asking if ‘she’ was troubled.

Jaina was still fighting off a panic attack before she flew off outside, the alien wings moving with a terrible familiarity as though she had possessed them all her life. She was greeted by an alien sky filled with stars and constellations that were beyond foreign before more ‘loyal soldiers’ rose to greet her. All that Jaina could do was lock herself in her room, and just beg the Tides it was all just an nightmare, or that she was trapped in some jail within her mind, something, anything beyond what seemed to be her new reality.

But it wasn’t to be.

Her stomach growled and the newfound Dreadlord lashed out on instinct for a fruit by the bed, or what she could tell was fruit. Jaina thought for a moment, and tried something. Sure enough, Fel from her hand withered the fruit, and she could taste it sweetness, and the hunger abated if only a little before she tossed the drained fruit to the floor and dragged herself back upon the bad.

“No! I can’t use Fel! Even when I’m like this!” When Jaina was young, Antonidas had her helped to dispose of Kel'Thuzad's undead specimens and all his notes. While she did so, some small voice in the back of her mind wanted nothing more then to pour over his research, and study it. As awful as it was, she was just so curious, and wanted to know more. She never did, never told anyone of wanted to, and years later, the irony wasn’t lost on her in the Third War.

It wasn’t lost on her again.

Pushing herself from the bed and walking the best she could (Silently wondering how Draenei and Tauren could walk so easily with hooves, let alone Dreadlords.) Jaina looked over the shelves and maps the bedroom had to offer. It shamed her to say it, she was almost twistedly amused to find the Dreadlord had the same affection for books, and knowledge, even if for vastly different reasons.

“So...here I am. The same kind of monster that help doom Arthas and Lordaneron, Quel'Thalas and Dalaran. Who invaded Kalimdor and schemes to cause war between Theramore and Ogrimmar. I have the scars from those chaotic weeks and months from landing to Mount Hyjal with the Sentinels and Thrall as proof enough. Well...I did have them, but not anymore," she amended awkwardly.

“What am I supposed to do now? Tides help me.”


	2. Chapter 2

There was said to be constants of the universe. That even if you travel to another world, blue would be blue, red would be red. Right would be right, and left would be left.   
  
In this case, Jaina was happy for the miracles of coffee still existing in this world. She drank down a goblet with little images of people being happy, and merry painted onto the side. Jaina couldn't be them, but it helps give her small comfort in this world, whatever it may be.  
  
The newfound Dreadlord sat the cup on the table as she went over everything she knew so far. There was nothing on her current status. Losing one soul from their body was not unheard of, nor was possession. One may look no further than the Forsaken, and the Death Knights. Summoning demons was the domain of warlocks and slaves to the Legion. Her case was...unique, and there was very little she could find to help her. The cultist was no one special, his amulet she couldn't remember the details of. A hint of anger rose up that left her fangs bared in a hiss that burnt in the back of her throat before Jaina hastily pushed it back down with another goblet of coffee to ease her fiery mood.  
  
Next was her...cult. Oh Tides, even thinking about them made her sick. The first was her ‘adviser’, ‘Pyg….  
  
XXX.  
  
_The rock woman bedecked in a thick cloak, charms littering her ancient form. In a twisted way she almost reminded Jaina of Antonidas. One could only look at him, and tell of the wisdom and power he had. Pyg radiated a similar energy of one who had long since mastered themself and their powers and gained a sense of humility from their study, but her powers twisted and warped by its very nature; not unlike warlocks of the Legion, or the liches of the Scourge. The Dreadlord found her outside the temple, in what was once a garden, but whatever life had grown there were long gone._  
  
“My lady.” She bowed, her voice still sounding as if it was a community people living inside one form. “I do hope you are well again. One must ensure the mind is not lost to one’s powers, as mighty as you are, unless you be a mad hermit of the woodlands, and mountains."   
  
Jaina was also reminded of Aegwynn.  
  
“Yes, my mind was...elsewhere.”  
  
“Plans of victory? Or perhaps communion with your divine brethren, oh all-mighty Nathrezim? Perhaps drawn to the Nether?”   
  
“...”   
  
Pyg waved her hand. “Pay me no mind, my lady. Just the rants of a statue who knows too much for her own good.” Something caught her unmoving eyes, and she bent down. A flower, white as snow, had beaten the odds, and had found a place to grow and live even in a place such as this. The marble woman took the flower and with a gentle touch drew the life from it until it turned to dust. It wasn’t Fel, but it didn’t matter. That alone unnerved the mage. Just the simple cruelty to even something like a helpless flower spoke of what Pyg would do to others. She subconscious folded her wings in at the sight.   
  
“My Dear?”   
  
The Dreadlord was quick to pull herself back together. “Yes, yes, I’m here. Now, I came here for a status report on our...latest actions in the region.”   
  
XXX.  
  
From Pyg, Jaina learned much. Out of her list of people she could rely on to not betray their "mistress" at the first opportunity, including Pyg who actually seemed trustworthy... as much as two people could be in such a position as this. Pyg's aura just seem to cry out near Jaina, and in the back of her mind, she knew Pyg knew more than she let on, but seem to keep her place for the time being, enchantments, her nature as some form of golem perhaps? Jaina still needed to know more.   
  
Next was the Skrocan. A warrior race of avians, the Skrocan built a great empire many thousands of years ago, such as the city that was ‘home’ before a great war and after that, a Cataclysm. Ruined great works and roads still in use was, but an sad remnant of what was.   
  
What actually happened seems to be lost even to the natives, if anyone really knew what happened, they kept it to themselves as that time fell into dozens of different myths. The Skrocan reminded her greatly of Arakkoa out Outland. As of now, the Sckroan lived in patchworks of various tribes across the world, most notable to the north of them. Despite this, the Sckoran seem to retain some of their old empire knowledge, notable various mines, and metal smithing, as well as a strong sense of obedience to the concept of oaths that persisted even in the service of this 'new order' the demon she inhabited had been creating before she had... displaced them.   
  
XXX.  
  
_He was an warrior, born and bred._  
  
A towering figure, with skills and scars to match his fury. But there was an order to everything he did. Jaina watch Jovan from up high in a ruined amphitheater. His feathers weren't anything too eye-catching and his expression so neutral it might have been called dull, but his motions and resolve shone through in his every duel.   
  
No matter how many times he was knocked down, or bones was broken from the training golems, he pulled himself up from the ground, and won the day, the golems finding themselves sliced open by a blade that rippled like water and after each battle, he said a prayer to his Gods, thanking them for victory, and to honor his service to Jaina.   
  
“Why do you serve me?” She asked Jovan one time.  
  
“Duty and my never ending loyalty to you, and only you.”   
  
XXX.  
  
She pushed the warrior from out of her mind, and focused on the Mihests. A feline race of alchemists and magical crafts-workers in the same manner one might consider goblins to be all alchemists or all Dwarves to be smiths, their people also tainted or perhaps blessed by an association with shadowy orders of assassins.   
  
Their homeland was mostly arid land of deserts and rocky canyons, with few fertile rivers that were the lifeblood of the Mihests. Once, they were a great power, filling the void of the ‘Old Age’ as it was call. God-Kings ruled from temples and palace fortresses, each trying to outdo the other. Some famed for conquest and bringing the heads of their foes back home, others for a bringer of peace, others for trade, and pious rule.  
  
However, the last great dynasty fell long ago, what was left of the legacy was continuously mired in internal conflict and strife between rivaling kingdoms, families and outside powers wanting the vase wealth and power the collapsing nations could still offer, mere ruins often picked clean.  
  
XXX.  
  
_“Ask Sanou anything, my Lady. Sanou tells you anything, do anything. Sanou does not lie to you. Sanou knows better.”_  
  
_The Dreadlord could only stare at the Minest, an black furred jaguar of a rogue, complete with an hood. Their belt outfitted with various daggers, poisons, makeshift bombs, a sword, and more.”I heard you were sent to capture a spy within the ranks. Where is he?”_  
  
_Sanou bared their fangs in a toothy smile. “Ah, about him.” they reached behind a pillar and tossed to the ground of a broken sheet bound up to serve as a body bag, stained by blood and stiff body contained within._  
  
_Jaina wasn’t even surprised by this point. “You killed him.”_  
  
_“Yes, Sanou did. Spy didn’t make it out of the woods and into mountains before Sanou got him. He tells no secrets to our foes.”_  
  
_“But you was supposed to take him alive.”_  
  
_“Do not blame Sanou! Sanou tried! But he did not make it easy!”_  
  
XXX.  
  
Jaina rested her head in her hands.   
  
Tides, there was just so much to take in, so much she needed to know lest her "followers "realize she wasn’t who they thought any longer. As powerful as she may be, and more so now, she could be killed and overwhelmed by sheer numbers. She drank more coffee, but it had done cold. Frustrated, she threw the goblet across the room, Fel running hot, but again she pulled back. “No... No..." she panted.   
__  
'I am in control, no matter the body my mind is mine, my will is my own, I am not ruled by the fire in my veins.'  
  
Trying to force her mind to other matters she looked again to the maps strewn across the table in her chambers, marks upon them signifying raiders from the 'Wild Hordes'.   
  
Trying to hum in thought but the sound escaping as a hiss she thought of what she knew of the Wild Hordes.   
  
Elves tanned by the sun, who roamed the lands in the west, looting, and pillaging as they pleased. They were a total mystery, nearly a complete blank upon historical records. There were references to an empire, but there so muddied, and twisted, told and retold for thousands of years. It didn’t help that whole histories was often lost when one clan wiped out another, or married into clan and thus lost. Shamanism at their core, the Elves were even more divided than say the Skrocan, dozens and dozens of Hordes rivaling one another, often used by proxy by the more powerful city-states and nations.   
  
Then the humans and Dwarves (The fact they was humans and Dwarves made her double take, but until she knew more she'd simply need to accept it) They were divided into major kingdoms, and minor states across the four corners. There was no Light, or rather there was the Light, but most worship various Gods as many did on Azeroth did before the Light rose to be. The most notable was the ‘Four Creators.’ (The Grandfather of Life, Growth and the Garden, the Dark Lady of Fertility, Art, and Music, the God of the Harvest and Patron of Soldiers, and the God of Change, Magic, and the Cosmos.) Many worshiped the Four in some shape, or fashion, or added to them.   
  
While several where regional powers, there was no ‘Lordaeron’ so to speak among them, the closest to such an equivalent had undergone an Age of Anarchy following years of neglect and wasteful spending and unrest from both the peasantry and the nobility, finally leading to a succession crisis that lead to the Age of Anarchy. It had recovered, and even grew, but it still suffered from monetary troubles, and radicals who saw the system as inherently broken.   
  
Dwarves where a shamanistic people before accepting a Cosmic Duality based faith of the Mother Earth and the Raging Flame coming together to create their civilization in the forge. Temples to this was often found across Dwarf lands far and wide. They were often at war with Worgen clans and...  
  
Eventually, Jaina needed to rest. Even for someone who enjoyed research as she did needed a rest, and everything else going on didn’t help. She was forcing herself to bed before a sick, twisted idea enter her mind.  
  
“No. No I couldn't. Even with the powers, I...it be wrong. But would it really? Even for a few minutes, it wouldn't hurt. Tides…”   
  
She took a deep breath, and her form charge shape. She looked into the mirror and found a woman with blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes looking back at her. For a moment, Jaina felt truly happy she could have this small joy at the Dreadlord’s power of illusion.  
  
But it didn’t last. Joy turn to bitterness and anger as bile began to gather in her mouth and blood beat against her skull.   
__  
'It's not real. Not at all. I’m not human, I’m a demon, a Dreadlord. Trapped in the body of a monster and lost a million worlds away from home. I lost all my friends, and the life I worked so hard to build. I’m surrounded by demons, and criminals. Damn it. Just damn it...DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT!'  
  
She all but exploded, a ball of Fell threw across the room, destroying the wall. Her rage venting like a volcano. After another moment, she lashed the fire and drew herself back, ashamed of her outburst more fit for a drunk Ogre than her, let alone a Dreadlord.  
  
Slowly, Yucel Bladeweaver the Wild Elf and Sanou poke they heads in and saw Jaina the Dreadlord more embarrassed than anything else. Jaina felt like a small child caught in the cookie jar as the two minors wasn’t sure what to make of this.  
  
"Leave," she muttered, hoping she sounded more annoyed than embarrassed.   
  
“Sanou saw nothing. Nothing!”  
  
“Remind me to never get on her bad side.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

> **Borderlands of the Kingdom of Velduania and the Principality of Sylvania.**
> 
>  
> 
> To think this mess was all because she had needed some space and would concoct any excuse to go out for a... Well a fly, concerns over how natural and liberating such an act felt cast aside in order to garner some peace of ind to collect her thoughts. Not that she could do that when standing in a forest clearing between two soldiers and wounded children.
> 
> “You claim to be soldiers? Defenders of the realm? Yet you burn towns and villages to the ground, murder and loot the poor and helpless? You are more akin to bandits than knights.” The Dreadlord growl before them, staff in hand.
> 
> The first Knight met his fate when he finally gave into rage and fear, throwing himself at her in a mindless fury, only to be consumed in a ball of arcane fire.
> 
> His friend tried to flee but found their legs locked in ice.
> 
> Viktorin held her sister tightly, hiding her face from the scene before them as the demon made quick work of the Sylvanian Knights like they were wet paper. The one on the ground called for help, but no sound escaped his lips save for a final gasp of air when the Demons struck his back and left him limp upon the ground.
> 
> With the slaughter finished, the demon turned to face them, eyes burning like the heart of a fire; Viktorin feared for their souls just as much as their lives bu she could not even move, her entire body stiff with fright!
> 
> “Hi?” Was all the Dreadlord could say at the moment, seemly more awkward then anything else, their burning gaze strangely soft and unsure as they glanced around the wooden vale. “I’m not going to hurt either of you, I wouldn't dream of it.”
> 
> To the sisters, the tone and words were... odd, to say the least, almost cutting through the haze of fright as confusions steadily engulfed the fear.
> 
> Jaina saw the oldest one had a nasty slash across her arm, most likely from one of the soldiers. She reached out, but the two recoiled in fear. She could only sigh. “I promise, I’m only trying to help. I can heal your injury, but you must show it to me.” Viktorin wasn’t in any place to reject such a offer, more so being saved from the Sylvanians.
> 
> Slowly, she accepted a little potion from the demon, it looked right, smelled right and yet she could not bring herself to drink it even as her arm grew numb from the pain.
> 
> "I took it from one of the soldiers," the demon said quickly, pointing to the fallen knight she had crushed beneath her hooves.
> 
> Knowing she had no choice, Viktorin drank it all down in one go, eyes sealed shut as she prayed for-
> 
> A distantly familiar warmth filled her veins and sure enough just as such potions did in the past the wound healed itself as though it was never there.
> 
> “What’ are your names?”
> 
> “Umm...Viktorin..and this is my sister, Panya. Tha- thank you for saving us!” No need to be rude to the demon and her very big claws and seeming penchant for offering free healing salves.
> 
> Jain's, or more accurately the Dreadlord's naturally rigid and stoic face, managed to weather a small smile that she hoped was none to threatening.
> 
> At least she she could still do good, even in this form. She turned to the Sylvanian Knight still on the ground, frozen in fear, unable to call for help, or run for his life.
> 
> Now about him, and the village...
> 
> XXX.
> 
> It was a one sided affair to be truthful.
> 
> The Sylvanian Knights were only a handful, and equipped only to attack a defenseless village like many of its kind before the already stretched thing Velduanians authorities could react it in time. They was not ready for a Dreadlord and her minions.
> 
> It was almost sad in a way.
> 
> Almost.
> 
> Yucel came out, howling with her bow, and arrows blessed by the cursed elements to rain a death of fire and ice onto the knights. Knowing this would be a simple matter, Jovan slashed his way through the Sylvanians, moving as the wind itself with a disinterred ebb and flow to each motion. The noble-appointed officers found their throats cut by Sanou, who appeared and disappeared as a moving shadow.
> 
> In a matter of minutes, it was over. The few still alive ran like back to the border of the Sylvania. Jaina stepped forward to the still shocked villagers, unable to make sense of suddenly being saved like this. Her 'servants' came to stand at her back, but no wings blocked their way for she no longer looked the part of a Dreadlord. She looked human enough, more like herself back on Azeroth, but with an armored cloak.
> 
> She saved this place out of the goodness of her heart, that was true, but she wasn't the mage she was back home. Any such actions had to be justifiable, fit with her current 'vessel' and show some sign of gain to her allies lest they and then the Legion suspect the truth, or anything close enough to it that they might act against her and this helpless world. Thus, money for protection and information and support for her cause had to be garnered through one means or another.
> 
> Sylvania was smaller than Velduania, but during the Age of Anarchy, had invaded when supporting a false candidate to the throne, marching all the way to the Capital, Stahmias. Even when pushed out at the end of the Age of Anarchy, they still raid the Borderlands, often by third-party, or in disguise. This town being the latest on a long list of other towns and villages.
> 
> Jaina felt like she was using the villages like pawns, but they was all grateful and believed her stories. She was a demon, but they saw her and her ‘cult’ as heroes who had done more for them then the kingdom itself from the Principality. (She prayed Yucel wasn’t collecting scalps, or Sanou looting the dead in the open.)
> 
> Still... Things could be worse she supposed...
> 
> Oh wait, those two girls. They saw who she really was. Tides, she hoped they could keep a secret.
> 
>   

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you can blame Overlord for giving me this idea, but I hope everyone enjoys this new twist to Dreadlord Jaina.


End file.
